Just One of the Guys: Reboot
by Elianna22
Summary: What if Bailey didn't fall into the hot tub on Day 1 at Seven Seas High? What mayhem, misunderstandings, and melodrama will her secret identity as a girl cause for Zack, Cody, and the rest of our beloved, dearly missed gang? Rewritten version. Chapter 6: Bailey notices that size does matter, and Zack has more than one trick up his sleeve.
1. Prologue Where Do I Even Begin?

**A/N: Hi all, I've been on hiatus from FF for a while (day job and all that). But today I was inspired to post a rewrite of a chapter I wrote on my laptop in the middle of the night and posted on FF exactly three years ago, having no idea what it would lead to, how it would change my life, my creative interests, and more priorities than I can count.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the _Suite Life_ franchise. But of course you already knew that.**

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**Prologue: Where Do I Even Begin?**

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The first time I set foot on a boat my stomach started squirming like a bucket of worms. Instant seasickness. I was ten years old and my family was on our first and only vacation, to Cousin Cletus's alligator farm in Florida. The whole trip sucked, especially the boat part. But that experience didn't stop me from applying to Seven Seas High six years later. Life in Kettlecorn, Kansas—a town so small that if you blink, you've driven right through it—stretched out before me in an endless blur of hog swilling and corn shucking. As crazy as it sounds, high school on a cruise ship seemed like my only chance to escape.

And now here I am on the _S.S. Tipton_, thousands of miles away from Kansas, in a twelve-by-twelve cabin that I share with Zack Martin. Zack is my boyfriend. At least, I'm pretty sure he is. Not bad for a sixteen-year-old girl from the sticks, right? I haven't gotten seasick once.

No, the queasy feeling in my stomach has nothing to do with seasickness, nothing to do with why I've been awake for hours.

Zack is sprawled on his back in the bed next to mine, snoring louder than a barn cat. Moonlight streaming through the porthole in our cabin accentuates his dreamy features, his shaggy blonde hair, his just-the-right-size nose, the tiny mole above the left side of his lip.

_Zzzz. Zzzzzz. Zzzzzz._

I don't mind the snoring, to be honest. Growing up in a farmhouse full of brothers, I can handle snoring. At least Zack doesn't cut the cheese in his sleep like Woody Fink, who lives in the cabin across the hall.

Zack and I have been together for three months, almost. We are having what you might call a "secret torrid affair" behind the backs of everyone at Seven Seas High. This is as much fun as it sounds—most of the time. Zack makes me laugh like nobody else, but he's not exactly Mr. Sensitive. Plus, he dumps his clothes all over the floor and has a D average this semester. Which for him is the norm.

_Zzzz. Zzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzz._

If only Zack were more like Cody.

This statement troubles me for so many reasons. The first being that Cody is Zack's twin brother. The second being that Cody also happens to be Woody's roommate (particularly troubling for Cody). Third, Cody thinks I'm a boy. Fourth, so does everyone else at Seven Seas High—well, except for Zack, that is.

Lately I've been feeling like I, Bailey Pickett, am starring in my own personal _Cruise of Deception_.

_Zzzzz. Zzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzz._

How did my life become a soap opera?

Where do I even begin?


	2. Chapter 1 I'm Just One of the Guys

**A/N: Thanks for the all reviews, favourites, and alerts, you guys! Here's Chapter 1...  
**

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**Chapter 1: "I'm Just One of the Guys"**

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Freedom. That's what came to mind the instant I held the brochure for Seven Seas High in my hands. I'd found it in the guidance counselor's office at school. From those four glossy pages—packed with photos of teens frolicking on a fifteen-deck luxury cruise ship, visiting Paris, London, Rome, exploring Mayan ruins, securing Ivy League scholarships—I knew Seven Seas High was my ticket out of Kettlecorn.

If you've ever lived in a small town, you'll know how it feels to fear you'll never go anywhere, never see anything new. Not even the hustle and bustle of Kettlepot, the closest town, eased the fear. Toward the end of tenth grade, I'd had enough. Aside from those three days in Florida, I had spent my entire sixteen years in central Kansas. Sixteen years of farm chores, tornadoes, and the same old faces day after day after day.

And then there was Moose. We'd been dating ever since being crowned Mr. and Miss Junior Mulch at the annual Kettlecorn Mulch Festival. A handsome, dimple-cheeked farmer's son, Moose Green could have had any girl in Kettlecorn, and he'd chosen me. Every morning, Moose drove me to school in his Chevy pick-up, and every afternoon he drove me home. Moose decided where we went on our dates—hayride, barn dance, drive-in, cornfield. Moose loved me. My parents loved Moose.

And I... couldn't wait to get to Seven Seas High.

[***]

As luck would have it, I did not have to wait long. My acceptance letter arrived four weeks after I sent in my application. By September 1st, I had a passport, a duffel bag full of clothes, and a whole lot of good-byes to say.

My mom was my last good-bye. She flew down to Miami with me, and I was grateful for her company. As the youngest of six, and the only daughter, I have a close bond with my mom. All my brothers are much older than me, scattered around Kettle County with farms and families of their own. Yet once we'd boarded the _S.S. Tipton_—every bit as spectacular as it looked in the brochure—and found the check-in line for Seven Seas High, I was itching for her to leave.

"But, Bailey, don't you need me to sign the forms?" she asked.

"Got it, Mom," I said. "I love you."

"I love you," she said. For a moment she looked like she might cry. She and Dad had been surprised when I told them I'd applied to Seven Seas High, but they agreed it would be a great opportunity to see the world, and thanks to an unexpected surplus from the corn crop, money wasn't an issue. Otherwise I'd never have been able to go. Seven Seas High isn't exactly cheap.

Taking her arm, I made her promise to give a big hug to Sally Mae, Betty Lynn, and all the other chickens.

"Now don't you forget—"

"I won't," I assured her. I kissed her cheek. "Bye."

"Wear sunscreen." She called after me.

I flashed her a thumbs' up and ducked into the nearest ladies' room. Ten minutes later I sauntered out wearing not sunscreen, nor the flowery red dress and black patent flats I'd put on that morning. Instead I wore jeans two sizes two big, a yellow T-shirt and a baggy plaid hoodie, and clunky sneakers that belonged to my brother Nate. And instead of pigtails, I had my long brown hair tucked under a baseball cap.

A woman glared at me like I was a pervert.

"Don't worry, I put the seat down," I told her in my gruffest Kansas accent.

Why the sudden gender switch? Because my new life at Seven Seas High depended on it. All the girls' spots were taken, so my only choice was to apply as a guy or spend another year suffocating in Kettlecorn. Unacceptable. Since my name is Bailey and I played on the boys' baseball team, the plan worked. Not to mention, with five older brothers, I'd had a thorough education in how males act.

Judging from the woman's expression, my ghetto farmboy disguise was as convincing as my application.

When she'd gone into the ladies' room, I discreetly adjusted the balled-up tube sock in my underwear and squared my shoulders.

_Freedom, here I come._

[***]

Zack was already there when I arrived at Cabin 8-102, the first door in a hall marked in bold letters "BOYS WING." The cabin was the size of our tool shed, furnished with two single beds covered with orange-and-yellow checkered blankets that reminded me of Grammy Pickett's kitchen curtains, plus two desks, two bookshelves, and two closets. A door on the far wall led presumably to a bathroom.

In the middle stood Zack, and he appeared to be unpacking—if this meant flinging stuff in all directions.

"Yo, I'm Bailey Pickett," I announced, as a towel sailed past my head. "S'up?"

He turned around and I found myself face to face with Leonardo DiCaprio from his _Titanic_ era.

_Gulp._ I had _not_ expected to have a hot roommate. That only happens in cheesy teen comedies, right?

But no, Zack was hot. Unruly blond hair, sparking blue-green eyes, and an I'm-charming-and-I-know-it smile. I can still picture what he wore that day—a mustard yellow button-down shirt, and green cargo shorts.

"Hey, brosef, what's going on?" He walked over to me, sidestepping strewn clothes. "Zack Martin." Then he swung a fist at me.

To this day I have no idea what made me think my new roommate was about to punch me, why I let out a shriek and backed away from him. All I can plead is temporary hot guy–induced insanity.

Zack stared at me.

Like an axe hitting a stump, I realized what he meant. "Oh, right, fist pound." I knocked my fist against his in what I hoped was an aggressive way. The grin told me he'd bought it.

"What a mess," I couldn't help exclaiming. With five brothers, I'm used to mess, believe me. But the cabin looked like a twister had torn through it.

"You're not one of those neat freaks, are you?" Zack demanded. "Because I've dealt with one of those before."

"Naw, man." I mustered a reassuring smile. "I'm just one of the guys.' I began to unpack, wondering how my bulky boy wardrobe, all hand-me-downs from Nate, would fit into one small dresser and an equally small closet.

Both Zack's and my eyes widened as he reached into my duffel bag and pulled out a polka-dotted bikini. I'd thrown it in at the last minute, figuring I could find a secluded spot to lie in the sun (wearing sunscreen, of course).

_Think, Bailey, think_.

"That's my girlfriend's," I said, snatching the bikini.

"Well, I didn't think it was yours." _Thank goodness._ "What's your girl like?"

"She's very intelligent, and she's got a _great_ personality." More flattering than "hayseed hottie," which is how Moose described me to his lughead friends.

Zack apparently disagreed. "Arf, arf."

My pulse settled a notch, and the blush receded from my cheeks. _Just another jerk who only cares about a girl's looks_, I decided. _Just as well, too. As if I need to spend the next eight months drooling over my roommate._

With that, I took out a twenty-foot rope from which to hang the massive curtain I'd borrowed from Grammy Pickett.

"Woah, dude." Zack held up his hands. "I didn't meant to offend you."

Did he think I was going to hogtie him? "Oh no, I just thought I'd hang a rope to divide up the room. I like my privacy."

Zack groaned. "Aww, you _are_ one of those neat freaks."

"No, no," I said as I dug in my suitcase again. "I'm _real_ easy-going." I thrust a sheet of paper at him. "Here's the bathroom schedule." I'd spent hours mapping time slots and bathroom activities to ensure our paths wouldn't cross at inopportune moments.

"Ummm... not sure I can 'go' on schedule," Zack said, with a frown.

I'd thought of that, too. "It helps if you eat bran," I said, attaching the rope to the porthole.

Zack continued to scrutinize the schedule. My eyes bugged when he scratched himself with another article from my suitcase... my hairbrush!

I flung the curtain on my bed, grabbed my hairbrush from him, and poked him in the chest with it. "I cannot _believe_ you used my hairbrush to scratch your back," I yelled, pushing him toward the door.

"Back?" Zack's eyes shifted. "Yeah, let's go with back."

_Gross!_ I shoved the hairbush at Zack and stomped down the hall.

"Oh, come on," Zack called to me. "You're worse than my brother."

So Zack had a brother... Was this brother also a student at Seven Seas High? I wondered. And if so, was he anything like Zack?

I rounded the corner at the end of the hall and stopped to collect my thoughts. Underneath my disgust, I felt relief. Sheer, stark relief. Zack and I were complete opposites. That "opposites attract" theory?

Hogwash. Whether he was hot or not, I had no reason to hang out with Zack, no reason to associate with him outside of classes. With everything to do on ship, and all the places we'd visit, I would barely even see Zack. Which would keep my secret safe.

Moose's final words rang in my ears. "I'll wait for you, Pumpkin." It had taken all my nerve to tell him our six-month relationship was over, and the shocked look on his face brought tears to my eyes. Poor Moose, he really had been special to me. He was my first boyfriend.

But I wasn't going to wait for him. And that had nothing to do with Zack.

[***]

After lunch, the fifty students of Seven Seas High gathered for a tour of the school facilities. Before our teacher showed up, Zack introduced me to Cody, his brother. Cody also turned out to be his identical twin.

"I'm ten minutes older," Zack added.

"Hey, Bailey," Cody said, shaking my hand and beaming. "It's great to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," I replied. Right away I could tell he was the less obnoxious one. Cody has a sweet smile and he's kind of gangly, more cutie than hottie. And he's way too polite to scratch himself with a girl's hairbrush.

On the continuum of roommates-as-opposites, Cody and Woody are north and south. Woody is a lumbering goofy guy with a bushy 'fro, a wacky sense of humour, and some unusual "talents."

"I can fart 'Stairway to Heaven,' " he informed me, after Cody introduced us.

Cody looked at Zack with a sucks-to-be-me scowl. "See, I told you he farts classic rock."

For a short moment—and I do mean short—I wished I'd gotten Woody as a roommate instead of Zack. Zero chance of accidental flirting. Having five brothers also means I'm plenty used to farting marathons. Just a pop a clothespin on your nose and you're good to go.

"No worries, buddy," Zack said, putting an arm around Cody. "I'll make sure you don't run out of your precious lilac air freshener."

Cody slapped away Zack's arm, but he brightened. Unbeknownst to Woody and me, the twins were hatching a plan to trade roommates, so Cody wouldn't have to deal with Woody. How differently the semester might have gone had that plan not derailed.

How differently indeed.

London Tipton pranced up to us, looking like an exotic Asian princess in a designer outfit of white jeans, striped shirt, and ridiculously high heels. Her neck dripped with diamonds. Her purse alone probably cost more than a farmhouse in Kettlecorn.

"Hey, Cody! Hey, Zack!" she said. Then she spotted me. "Hey, hideously dressed freak I don't know!" Or maybe she was talking to Woody.

London happens to be a close friend of the twins. Zack and Cody used to live at the swanky Tipton Hotel in Boston, owned by London's father, a gazillionaire businessman and head of international conglomerate Tipton Industries. Their mom is the hotel's lounge singer. Talk about living a sweet life! Kettlecorn doesn't even have a hotel.

Ms. Tutweiller, a perky, pretty redhead, arrived soon. "Good afternoon, students," she said, her voice radiating cheer. "It's wonderful to meet all of you. Let's get this tour started."

[***]

Within an hour, Zack, Cody, Woody, and I were back in our respective cabins. In the marine biology lab, Zack and Woody had had the brilliant idea to feed the octopus. The octopus had retaliated as only a cephalopod can—by drenching us in ink.

That's when my luck changed.

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**A/N: So much fun to rewatch the pilot episode of SLOD as "research" for this chapter :)** **Love from Ellie—Xoxoxo**


	3. Chapter 2 Our Little Secret

**A/N: Hello, dear readers : ) As much as I love the original version in that nostalgic, first-story way, looking back some parts feel rushed and underdeveloped. I didn't like the abrupt way Chapter 2 ended, so this version ends on a different note.**

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**Chapter 2: Our Little Secret**

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"Come on!" Zack banged on the bathroom door. "How long does it take for one guy to rinse off?"

I'd been in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, scrubbing away octopus ink and changing into a fresh outfit consisting of a graffiti-covered hoodie and a green star-fish patterned t-shirt. Old favourites of Nate's.

"Well excuse me for moisturizing," I snapped, without thinking. "Which I need to do after I shave," I added hastily in my deepest voice.

"Shave what?" Zack, still in his ink-stained clothes, peered at me when I emerged from the bathroom. "You're like one of them hairless cats."

_Uh oh..._ How long would it take everyone else at Seven Seas High to notice my complete and permanent lack of facial hair?

Zack went into the bathroom, and I heard the water start. My reflection in the mirror above my dresser gave me a jolt of panic. A wisp of hair had slipped out from under my baseball cap. Since the coast was clear, I took off the cap and shook out my hair. Once I had the curtain hung, and Zack on the bathroom schedule, the coast would stay clear.

"Hey, did you see my soap on a—woah."

I whirled around to see Zack in the bathroom doorway.

"Dude..." He chuckled. "You need a haircut."

"Uh, I can explain," I stammered.

"Please tell me the explanation is that you're a girl." Zack took a step a closer to me. "Because I'm strangely attracted to you right now."

My cheeks burned. Zack was attracted to me? Not that I could worry about that right now.

"All right, all right, I'm a girl." Too flustered to think of an alternate explanation, I took the plunge, telling him how I'd applied to Seven Seas High as a boy, and how waiting until next year to apply as a girl had not been an option.

"I can't go home now, I just can't. You have to promise you won't tell _anyone_ I'm a girl!" I twisted my hair under my cap and knelt in front of Zack. He had plopped himself on my bed to listen to my tale of woe. In a final act of desperation—I could already see myself on a plane back to Kansas—I grabbed his hand. "Please, please, I'm begging you."

Zack flashed a smile that would have made my knees wobble if I hadn't been sitting on them. He patted my hand. "Don't worry, it'll be our little secret."

The door flew open and in strode Cody.

"Woody said he's willing to trade room—"

Cody's feet stopped moving when he saw Zack and me with our hands clasped. "Why are you guys holding hands?"

Zack and I jumped to our feet. "Uh, secret handshake," he offered, and we mimed a sequence of mismatched hand movements. I even snapped my fingers. Totally lame.

Before Cody could respond, Zack said, "Oh, by the way, I am _not_ trading roommates!"

He shoved Cody out of the cabin and shut the door in his face.

If I hadn't been dizzy with relief, I would have felt sorry for Cody. The guy was having a rough day, what with discovering his roommate was a gassy slob, getting inked by an octopus, and to heap insult upon injury, having sea gulls peck his face and his pants fall down during the octopus escapade. Just between you and me, Cody looked pretty cute in his Share Bear boxers.

[***]

After finishing the school tour, we had a break before dinner. Zack, Cody, Woody, and I went up to the game room on the Sky Deck for some "guy" time. So much for not spending any time with Zack. But now that he knew my secret, I couldn't risk alienating him.

"Why didn't you want to trade roommates?" Cody asked Zack, sounding like he wanted to sulk.

Zack shrugged. "We figured opposites attract."

"And by opposites," I chimed in, "he means, like clean and messy, not like boy and girl." _Shut up, Bailey. Just shut up.  
_

Zack came to my rescue. "Why don't we go play some pool and let Cody and Woody work out their issues?" He nudged me toward the pool table.

"We have issues?" Woody asked Cody in tones of devastation.

"No, no, no," Cody protested but was too honest to keep lying. "Yes."

_Good thing Cody isn't my roommate_, I thought as I lined up my first shot. _If he found out I was a girl he would never be able to keep his mouth shut_.

Zack leaned in to help me position the cue.

"Thanks, Zack," I said. This time my knees did wobble.

"Why can't we get along like that?" Woody whined at Cody. Without waiting for an answer, he went off in a huff. He and Cody would have to work out their issues later.

"What _are_ you doing?" Cody asked Zack and me as if we were playing strip pool instead of regular pool.

We sprang apart. Zack resorted to "How 'bout them Patriots?" and I contributed a lame "Yeah."

London walked into the game room. "I hate this stupid sea school," she grumbled. "And I hate this stupid boat."

Zack pointed to my favourite arcade game. "Hey, the Galaxy Raider game is open."

"I love this stupid boat!" London cheered. "Dibs on the gold headphones. They match my outfit!"

London may be an heiress, but "airhead" suits her far better. Although she's eighteen, she's in eleventh grade, same as the twins, Woody, and me.

The four of us were busy raiding galaxies when a live boat drill began. Since we were wearing headphones, we didn't hear the test announcement, only the ship's foghorn sounding three times—the "sinking ship" signal.

I screamed like a girl as we scrambled around the Sky Deck searching for life-jackets. Nobody noticed. We were all screaming.

Zack was the one who found us a trunk of life-jackets and an exit door.

"Rich people first," London bellowed, shoving me aside as we tried to pummel our way through the door. Her force sent me sprawling, and—_thwack_—my head hit the deck.

Lying facedown, too dazed to move, I heard shouts from below.

"We fell overboard!" Sounded like Zack.

"Why is the ocean so hot?" Definitely London.

"Probably because it's a hot tub," replied a dry voice I would soon know well. The voice belonged to Mr. Moseby, manager of the _S.S. Tipton_ and former manager of the Tipton Hotel in Boston. He had greeted my mom and me at the top of the ship's gangway.

"Why is there a hot tub in the middle of the ocean?" London again.

So my new friends were safe. But was I?

Smidgen by smidgen I raised my head, aware of my hair flopping in the breeze. The Sky Deck was deserted. My baseball cap sat a few feet away. When I was satisfied no bones were broken—only slightly disappointing since a personal injury lawsuit against London would be worth millions—I retrieved my baseball cap, stuffed my hair back underneath, and hurried to the stairs.

_Whew, that was close_.

I must have taken a wrong turn because I couldn't find the hot tub, or my way back to the cabin. The _S.S. Tipton_ is actually bigger than Kettlecorn. After trekking across four different decks, and up and down countless sets of stairs, I finally made it to our hall on Deck 8. By then I was sweating like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Time for another shower.

Cabin 8-102 was empty. I dumped my baseball cap and hoodie onto my bed and lifted my damp T-shirt.

At that moment, Zack stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh hey, Bailey," he said as if he walked in on girls undressing every day. "Where were you?"

"I, uh..." I mumbled, unable to look away. "I got lost."

Beads of water glistened on his chest. A hairless chest with the beginnings of muscular definition. My eyes travelled lower, settling on the fold of towel at his waist. For the third time that day, my cheeks flamed.

A noxious gassy smell interrupted my swooning, followed by a knock at the door.

"Zack!" It was Cody. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to trade roommates?"

Zack began to laugh, and I joined in. We laughed and laughed until my stomach cramped and my eyes teared.

"Thanks," I said when I could speak again. Despite the sitcom hilarity of our situation, despite my bordering-on-out-of-control hormones, I had to stake my position.

"I really, really appreciate your keeping my secret. If Ms. Tutweiller finds out I'm a girl, not only will I be sent home, but I'll be stuck in Kettlecorn for the rest of my life. Farming is tough, and I need a scholarship to pay for college. Seven Seas High will look great on my transcript."

"No worries," Zack said, looking me straight in the eyes. "You can trust me."

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**A/N: Hmmm, can Bailey trust Zack? :P Thanks for reading and if there's anything new/different you want to see, please let me know. Xoxoxo – Ellie. Btw, rewatching the pilot episode gave me an idea for another roommate story… stayed tuned…**


	4. Chapter 3 The Octopus Strikes Again

**A/N: Welcome to Chapter 3, in which Bailey falls deeper into the abyss created by Zack's insistence that she can trust him...**

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**Chapter 3: The Octopus Strikes Again**

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True to his word, Zack treated me like I was just one of the guys when we were around Cody, Woody, London, and the rest of our classmates. And I tried not to gaze dreamily at him when we were alone in our cabin. As I kept reminding myself, I'd come to Seven Seas High to _be_ a boy, and to get _away_ from a boy.

Getting mixed up with another boy? Not part of the plan.

But despite my honourable intentions, it didn't take long for things to heat up.

* * *

For our second biology lab, Ms. Tutweiller assigned a frog dissecting project. This should have been against her better judgment. A roomful of teenagers, expensive scientific equipment, and a bunch of dead frogs... what could possibly go wrong?

Zack had been my partner for the first lab, but this time I worked with Cody. Unlike Zack, who had yet to take the shrink-wrap off his textbooks, Cody earns straight A's and aspires to see his name in the _Guinness Book of World Records_ under "Most Nobel Prizes Won." Since I need to make sure my own straight-A record doesn't slip, Cody was the sensible choice. Not to mention, I definitely didn't want to be anywhere near Woody wielding dissecting tools.

"So, you decided you don't want to fail biology?" Cody asked me as we set up our apparatus. "Or do you just not trust Woody with a scalpel and forceps?"

I laughed. "All of the above." I still didn't know Cody that well. Whenever the gang hung out together, Zack took the spotlight, cracking jokes—mostly at Cody's expense—and regaling us with tales about terrorizing guests and staff at the Tipton Hotel.

Despite my efforts to cultivate a macho persona, I let Cody do the dissecting.

Cody sliced into our lifeless amphibian. "Look at the mesentery and the pancreas," he said as if he were Charles Darwin himself, discovering an exotic new species. "And check out the perfectly preserved oviducts and cloaca."

While I recorded our observations on our assignment sheet, Mr. Moseby walked in. Although he's responsible for the whole ship, he often frequents our area. It's like he expects to find trouble. But you can't really blame him. According to Zack, when he and Cody arrived at Seven Seas High, Mr. Moseby jumped overboard.

"May I speak to you for a minute, Ms. Tutweiller?" Mr. Moseby asked, dapper in his navy blue blazer, precision-folded pocket hanky, and white sailor shorts that looked even whiter against his dark skin. He took in the sight and smell of pickled frog guts, and grimaced. "In the staff lounge," he added.

"Of course," Ms. Tutweiller said, collecting her purse. "Class, I'll be right back."

"Get me a triple-shot, non-fat cinnamon latte with extra foam and coconut sprinkles," London called after her. London acts like everyone is her own personal servant.

"Hey, Cody, check THIS out!"

Cody and I both looked up as Zack thrust a pair of freshly dissected frog's legs into Cody's face.

Cody shrieked and leapt backward, sending his chair flying. "Zack, stop it!" He sounded like a little girl.

I bit my tongue to avoid letting out any girlie shrieks of my own. A lesson learned when Zack attempted the fist pound.

"You look just like Maddie and Esteban when they thought you were the cursed mummy of Queen Qui Qui," Zack jeered, chasing Cody with the frog legs. Most of Zack's stories starred Maddie the Candy Counter Girl, Esteban the Bellhop, London, and—of course—poor, long-suffering Mr. Moseby.

"Oh, that was hilarious!" London hooted with laughter. "But you had to be there," she said before her lab partner, Addison Cartwright, could start asking questions. Addison has a ballet dancer's figure and waist-length light brown hair that any girl would envy. Just looking at her makes me wish I didn't have to keep my hair hidden under a baseball cap. Like London's father, Addison's dad also runs a multinational company. Judging from her hyperactive nature, the company manufactures either candy or Ritalin.

The inevitable mayhem struck when Zack tripped over Cody's chair and slammed into the aquarium, knocking it to the floor.

I happened to be closest to the aquarium. A tidal splash hit me, along with assorted aquatic flora and fauna.

And the octopus.

"Zack, look what you did!" I yelled as the mushy creature flopped in my lap, spewing black ink. Five days at sea and the octopus had made me its victim twice.

Cody scooped the octopus off me. "You're such an idiot," he snapped at Zack, who stood there laughing his head off with Woody at his side.

_Stupid immature moron._ _Just like Moose and all those other rednecks back in Kettlecorn._

"I'm gonna go get a mop," I said between gritted teeth, and I marched out of the lab.

Ms. Tutweiller had pointed out the nearby cleaning supplies closet on our first-day tour. She must have known we'd need it. I yanked open the door and rummaged for a mop and bucket.

"Bailey, I'm sorry."

Mop in hand, I turned to see Zack standing next to me.

"I was just kidding around," he said. "Come on, don't be mad."

"Leave me alone, Zack. Just go." I wanted to stay furious with him, but my resolve was fizzling. How could it not, with those bluish-green eyes sparkling at me, those lips quirking into a grin that seemed designed to neutralize my anger?

He stepped closer to me, and the door shut behind him.

"Zack..." My voice trailed off. The space around us was shrinking, pushing us together, the air heating as though the closet had become a sauna. And then our faces were inches apart. His breath tickled my cheek. My knees did their wobbly thing again, like I was balancing in the middle of a teeter-totter.

I'm not even sure who kissed whom first. One graze of the lips and Zack and I were all over each other right there in the closet, amid dusty brooms and corrosive liquids and rags that been who knows where. Breathless and eager, tongues tangling, hands in each other's hair. That kind of kiss. His mouth tasted like chocolate ice cream from the dessert buffet.

I had no idea how much time had passed when a cry rang out—from the lab, thankfully.

"What in the world is going on here?" Ms. Tutweiller.

_Clonk._ A spray bottle hit my head.

Woody piped up. "Hey, where are Zack and Bailey?"

I giggled and let my forehead drop onto Zack's shoulder. My heart was racing. So was his. I could feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

_If only they knew..._

* * *

**A/N: Secret action in a closet… a love story's gotta have it. Big thanks to you guys for reading. Stay tuned for what happens next. Reviews and suggestions always welcome. (And yes, I am still working on the other roommate story :) Xoxoxo – Ellie**


	5. Chapter 4 Cheerleaders, Burrito & Bikini

**A/N: It pains me (almost) to admit it, but some of the adventures in this chapter were inspired by real-life events from when I was in high school, caught up in crushes, gossip, and secret drama (that years later I learned had not been so secret after all…)**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Cheerleaders, Burritos, and the Bikini**

* * *

Those theorists must have known what they were talking about when they declared that opposites attract. By mid-September, Zack and I were spending a lot of time together. And by that I mean as much time as we could without arousing the suspicions of Cody, Woody, Mr. Moseby, and everyone else at Seven Seas High. We ate meals together, we played Putt Putt together, we hung out in our cabin together.

I've never lived a double life before. In a small town, it's impossible to keep any kind of secret. _Everyone_ gets in your business. If I crossed Main Street with a guy who wasn't Moose, rumours of my infidelity would reach his ears before I made it to the other side. In fact, until I checked the "Male" box on my Seven Seas High application, my biggest lie was telling my mom I'd cleaned out the chicken coop when I hadn't.

Zack, on the other hand, has plenty of experience scheming and sneaking around. Just ask Mr. Moseby. Despite Zack's expertise, we've still had a few close calls, some more perilous than others.

* * *

Woody confronted Zack and me one morning as we were leaving our cabin. "Did you guys have a pillow fight last night?" he asked. "I heard all this giggling and stuff."

"We were watching _Cheerleader Pillow Fights: Part 10_ on Bailey's laptop" Zack said, proving he is a quick thinker despite his dismal grades. He clapped Woody on the shoulder. "Seriously, young Woodmite, it's the best installment in the series."

"Those chicks are _real_ hot," I said, without missing a beat. You'd never know Woody had busted us. Zack had snuck up on me with a pillow while I was doing algebra homework, and the combat had escalated from there. Zack claimed he let me win, but I beg to differ. Shucking corn gives a girl some muscle.

"Why don't _we_ ever watch _Cheerleader Pillowfights_?" Woody asked when Cody joined us a few moments later. "I'm sick of all your nature documentaries. Especially the one about barnacle reproduction."

Cody's cheery morning expression drooped. "I thought that was your favourite. It won an Aquatic Research Merit Award."

"OK, see you guys at breakfast," Zack said, rolling his eyes, and away we hurried, leaving Cody to defend the charms of arthropod courtship.

[***]

Woody was also responsible for the next awkward encounter.

On the last Friday night in September, after the ship had picked up a load of cruise passengers from Cancun, a huge Mexican buffet was held on the Fiesta Deck. I had never seen so much Mexican food in my life. Stacks of tortillas. Mountains of rice and three types of refried beans. Nachos encrusted with shredded cheese, olives, jalapenos, and more refried beans. A make-your-own-burrito station bursting with ground beef, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, corn so sweet-smelling it could have come from our farm, and loads more refried beans. Plus vats of sour cream and guacamole and salsa.

Cody had dreaded the buffet all week because Woody had promised to wow us with "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida"—a classic rock tune that's even longer than "Stairway to Heaven."

"Can I stay with you and Bailey tonight?" Cody begged Zack. "I'll sleep on the floor. Heck, I'll even sleep in the bathtub." He watched in horror as Woody, sitting next to me at our table, inhaled burritos and refried beans as though preparing for a famine.

_Uh oh... _surely Zack wouldn't condemn his twin brother to an all-night Woody symphony? Nobody could be that cruel.

Woody's eyes bulged like the burrito hanging out of his mouth. The burrito dropped to his plate. "Zack, are you playing footsies with me?" he asked, bean bits flying in all directions.

I dropped my own burrito, and Zack choked so hard he sprayed a mouthful of cactus soda across the table and Cody had to pound his back.

"I thought you were Addison," he spluttered when he could finally speak. He shot me a sideways glance, and I knew he'd meant to play footsies with me.

_Awwww._

Across the table, Addison tossed a lock of silky hair over her shoulder. "Ooooh, Zack, I'm so flattered. I thought I felt a touch on my foot earlier, so it had to be you, and this makes the Mexican Buffet all the more special in its significance because we've been onboard for one whole month now."

I had a sudden urge to throw my burrito at her.

"I think he likes you," London announced to Addison. "Zack and Addison sitting in a tree, K-I-" She broke off, looking confused. I swear, that girl is dumber than a haystack.

"Here comes Mr. Moseby," Zack said, having recovered. Mr. Moseby was indeed striding toward us. "Cody, maybe he'll let you stay in the storage room on the lower deck—you know, the one with the rats and barnacle poison."

Mr. Moseby arrived at our table. "That would be a '_no_,' " he said, enunciating every syllable. "Nobody is changing rooms or going anywhere. I've got my eye on you two hooligans." He glared at the twins, then at Woody and me. "Make that, you _four _hooligans."

Everything I'd eaten flip-flopped in my stomach. I could afford to have Mr. Moseby's eye on me about as much as my parents could have afforded Seven Seas High without the crop surplus. If Mr. Moseby discovered I was a girl, living in a boy's cabin—Zack's cabin, no less—he would expel us both. The man probably dreams of a Zack-free ship. Good-bye, college degree, career, future. Hello, eternity on the farm.

_Don't worry_, Zack mouthed when I sent him a crap-what-are-we-going-to-do? look. So I tried not to. Yet despite the fiesta of smells from the Mexican Buffet, my appetite had vanished.

On a positive note, Woody's burrito binge landed him in the ship's infirmary with a stomachache, cancelling the symphony and sparing Cody from a sleepless night cramped in our bathtub. Likewise, I was spared from a sleepless night with the covers pulled over my head.

My mom would say it's wrong to enjoy the misfortune of others, but in this case, I think she would make an exception—even if she knew the full story.

[***]

A third hair-raising incident stands out.

Cody poked his head inside Cabin 8-102 one evening the second week of October. I had grown used to him dropping by all the time. "Hey, Bailey, can I borrow your digital compass?" he asked.

I was at my desk, going over notes for a geography presentation. "No problem," I said and located the compass in its spot in the desk drawer. I handed it to him, hoping, with a small twinge of guilt, that he'd go back to his cabin.

But Cody had other ideas. "Zack, are you _studying_?" he gasped.

Zack was also at his desk, a history textbook open in his lap. I'd finally persuaded him to unwrap his textbooks. "If I'm going to fulfill my lifelong dream of becoming a racecar driver slash secret agent, I can't be a total slacker," he said, propping his feet on the cluttered desktop.

"So I won't have to do all your homework for the rest of the semester? What will I do with all that free time?" Cody's eyes narrowed to a squint. "Wait a minute, there's a girl, isn't there? You're studying to impress some girl." He turned to me and said, "Zack once learned all two-hundred-fifty words in a vocabulary unit just to impress Maddie."

_Thud, thud, thud_ went my heart. Zack and Cody knew each so well. I should have expected Cody's twin telepathy to detect that Zack was hiding something.

Just as Zack opened his mouth to reply, Cody's gaze shifted. He reached into a heap of clothing on the floor. "I knew it, there _is_ a girl!" He brandished a polka-dotted item at Zack.

The top half of my bikini. _Oh crap._

Zack's face broke into a full-blown smirk. He grabbed the bikini from Cody and flung it straight at me. "Bailey, you sly dog. Who's the girl?"

"Yeah, who is she?" Cody asked, joining the inquest.

"Ummm..." The twins looked at me, while I alternated between scorching humiliation and blood-chilling panic. As soon as a coherent response popped into my head, I ran with it: "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

Without stopping for breath, I plowed on. "Damn, I think I left something in the lab." And then I just plain ran.

I fled all the way up to the Lido Deck, where I collapsed onto a lounger by the outdoor pool. Its glassy surface formed a serene contrast to the storm in my head. The bikini scene replayed itself like a clip from a reality TV show. _What am I doing?_ I asked myself. _How much longer can we hide this from Cody?_

Other questions surfaced. What exactly was "this"? An away-from-home adventure, a "forbidden" fling—or something more? Since that first kiss in the cleaning supplies closet, Zack and I had kissed several more times. Alone in our cabin, in a couple of empty classrooms, and, once, in a dark corner of the Putt Putt course while Woody was at the snack counter. Each time we kissed, it was like fireworks going off in my body. I never wanted those kisses to end.

Did Zack feel the same way? He'd mentioned dating various girls in Boston, but no long-term girlfriend. I had never heard him use "girlfriend" to describe any girl. Including me.

The part of my brain that collected facts zoomed back to Cody's revelation about Maddie. Maddie's name popped up on a regular basis, usually followed by Cody mocking Zack for having had a crush on her, although she was three years older than them and had never shown him an iota of interest. Nevertheless, Zack had studied to impress Maddie, and now he doing homework, up to twice a week. Was that not a sign he was really into me?

Or—and I hated this direction, but it had to be considered—maybe Zack was just fooling around with me because he could. I was indebted to him for keeping my identity a secret, for letting me stay at Seven Seas High. And way too smitten with him to say no.

_No, Zack may be a prankster and a slob and a self-professed slacker, but he's not a manipulative, advantage-taking douche. At least I don't think he is._

How was I supposed to know what was going on? I had no dating experience outside of Moose, and we'd broken up two weeks before I left for Seven Seas High. Did that mean I was on the rebound—even though I was the one who'd done the dumping?

The sight of Ms. Tutweiller jolted me from my worries. She walked by herself, slowly, as though she had nowhere special to be. After a few more steps, she stopped and rested her chin on the deck railing, gazing out at the Atlantic. Her solitude triggered a pang of homesickness, for my best friend Jamie-Beth, my mom and dad, Nate, even Sally-Mae and Betty-Lynn and all the other chickens.

I stayed in the lounger until it was 10:25, five minutes to curfew. Then I slunk into the shadows, away from Ms. Tutweiller, away from questions to which I had no answers.

Emptiness greeted me when I opened the door to Cabin 8-102. From the intergalactic taser explosions emanating from Cabin 8-101, I knew where Zack was. Playing _Alien Kung Fu Slamma Jamma_ with Cody and Woody. Zack had just bought the latest edition of the game.

I changed out of Nate's clothes and climbed into bed. I'd figure things out, I told myself. I just needed to wait for a sign from Zack, a sign he felt the same way about me as I felt about him. That would be easier than asking him flat-out, putting him on the spot, when he may be just as confused as me. And if this sign told me he wasn't serious about us, well, I would deal with it. No matter how much it hurt, I'd deal with it and move on, just like I had when I decided to break up with Moose.

[***]

Cody approached me at the breakfast buffet the next morning. "Bailey, you are one classy guy," he said in a tone so earnest I knew he wasn't joking.

"Uh, thanks," I said. It was difficult to look to him in the eye, but I forced myself to.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, gave it a light squeeze. "I really admire your respect for privacy. Whoever owns that bikini is a lucky girl."

I turned away so he wouldn't see my face go as red as the strawberry jam I'd spooned onto my oatmeal. _What a sweet thing to say_, I thought. _I just hope he's right_.

* * *

**A/N: Again, lots of fun writing this chapter and thinking up awkward, embarrassing situations for Bailey and Zack that would showcase his smooth-talking, strategizing skills and give the other characters some involvement. And a longer second half of the chapter. Thanks again for all the reviews. I appreciate all the feedback! Xoxoxo – Ellie **


	6. Chapter 5 Stupid Robot Golf Caddy

**A/N: Hello, dear readers :) Here is Chapter 5, in which a peculiar purchase of Zack's makes an appearance.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Stupid Robot Golf Caddy**

* * *

_Zzzz. Zzzzzz. Zzzzzz._

I brave a glance at the chicken clock on my nightstand. Oh no. It's worse than I thought. The big hand has inched past the twelve and the little hand points to the three. I've been tossing and turning for hours, ever since a switch in my brain flipped, unleashing a string of memories from my first two months at Seven Seas High.

Zack slumbers on, his mouth open as he breathes slowly and evenly, oblivious to the fact my brain is buzzing with worries that I'm in over my head leading a double life, trying to handle our relationship, or whatever it is, on top of trying to preserve my grades. I have a history mid-term this afternoon, worth a third of my grade, and if I don't get to sleep soon, all the studying I did this week won't save me from a horrific B, or a transcript-mangling C.

At home, when I couldn't sleep, I'd go out to the haystack behind our barn. Surrounded by the soothing smell of hay, a smell I've known my entire life, I'd lie there and stare at the sky. Compared to the enormity of the universe, the furthest spot from Kettlecorn—the island of Mubumkiri in the Indian Ocean—was a fraction of a nanometer away. Less than a fraction. A distance so minuscule you would need a terrifically powerful microscope to see it. In the grand scheme of things, that meant anywhere on Earth was close enough for me to go, anywhere at all.

Tonight I can see only darkness through the porthole. Darkness and a smudge of white where the moon hides behind clouds.

I swing my feet to the floor, craving the comfort of a night sky. Before I can take a step, my big toe collides with a sharp edge. My toe twists. Pain shoots up my leg.

"Owwww!" I crash to the floor, where I land in a pile of Zack's video games. Plastic cases dig into my thighs.

What the—? I must have tripped over Zack's robot golf caddy. The stupid robot golf caddy he bought yesterday, for reasons I cannot fathom.

_Zzzzz. Zzzzzzz. Zzzzzzz._

Of course Zack is still asleep. The guy could sleep through a tidal wave.

His snoring almost blocks out a tap at the door. "Everything OK?"

Cody.

"Just fine," I whisper-shout. "Stubbed my toe, nothin' to worry about." The door is locked, it's not as if he can come in and find me helpless among Zack's junk, my hair as loose as a horse's mane.

"Do you need some ice?"

"No, I'm good." I let a beat pass. "But thanks. G'night."

"If you're sure then."

"I'm sure."

"OK. G'night, Bailey."

I hoist myself into my bed and curl into a ball, rubbing my toe until the pain fades. Stupid robot golf caddy. Stupid clutter everywhere.

Kind, considerate Cody for checking on me in the middle of night.

If only Zack—lazy, irresponsible, _messy_ Zack—were more like Cody.

There's that troubling thought again, the one that started this bout of insomnia. I roll onto my side, turning my back to Zack, and take long, deep breaths. In, out. In, out. Must stop worrying, must stop worrying. Must. Stop. Worrying.

_Zzzzzz. Zzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzz._

[***]

The studying pays off. In spite of getting only four hours of sleep, I ace the history mid-term. I have study hall during final period on Friday, so once I hand my paper to Ms. Tutweiller, I'm free to go back to my cabin and take a much-needed nap.

The smell of boy hits my nostrils when I enter Cabin 8-102.

Zack has pushed our beds together and he's sprawled across them, typing on his laptop, his sneaker-clad feet resting on my bed. Because I'm in a good mood from the mid-term, I can overlook their proximity to my pillow.

I take off my baseball cap and bend to kiss him, my ponytail draping his cheek. Putting my arms around him, I ask in my sweetest voice, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Just writing an email," he replies.

I freeze. Right at the top of the screen are three gruesome words:

_Hey sweet thang_

I yank myself away from Zack.

"What the hell is this?"

"An email to Maddie." Zack sounds completely normal.

Tears blur my vision. "Why are you calling _her_ sweet thang?"

He leans on an elbow, looking at me as though I'm speaking to him in Swahili. "I call all the ladies sweet thang."

"You've never called _me_ sweet thang."

Zack's eyebrows contort. "Are you sure?"

"You two-timing bastard," I scream at him.

"But I haven't done anything with anyone. Maddie's just a friend. I've known her for years."

"THEN WHY ARE YOU CALLING HER SWEET THANG?"

"As I said, I call all the ladies sweet thang. It means nothing." Now Zack sounds annoyed.

"So I mean nothing to you?" I can't hold back the sobs, they're clawing at my throat and my eyes sting with tears. It's getting hard to breathe.

Zack blinks. He sits upright, closes the laptop. Then he turns to me.

"Lucky I was raised by a woman," he says, "so this sort of irrational behaviour doesn't throw me."

You know the expression "I saw red"? At that moment I see nothing but red. A raging, blazing crimson.

"Go to hell, Zack!" I yell.

With that, I snatch my baseball cap, jam it over my head, and shove my ponytail underneath. And I storm out of our cabin.

I haven't stormed two steps before I run smack into Cody.

"Dude, what's wrong?" he asks eyes wide with concern.

"Nothin'." I swipe at my cheeks, a feeble attempt to hide my unmanly tears. "I was just... benching some _really_ heavy weights."

Ridiculous. Utterly pathetic. But in my humiliated, heartbroken state, it's the best I can do to protect my masculinity. My next priority is finding someplace I can bawl my eyes out in peace, so I push past Cody, mumbling, "See you later."

Cody thwarts my plan by following me down the hall, nattering about the history mid-term, I think.

If only I had a female friend on the ship, someone to whom I could reveal this crazy, complicated drama. Someone who could help me understand what's going on, someone who could tell me what to do. Jamie-Beth doesn't know the truth about how I got into Seven Seas High, or a single thing about Zack. As I said, keeping a secret in a small town is impossible. Anything I tell my best friend will get back to my parents in a matter of hours, minutes. That would be just as terrible as getting busted at Seven Seas High. And it would lead to the same outcome—a one-way ticket to Kettlecorn.

"So then Maddie just started to cry," Cody says.

"Huh?" Why is Cody talking about that bitch?

"When London was helping Maddie to train for gym class," Cody says, like he's repeating himself. "London made her bench press a trunk of designer shoes. If she could bench it ten times, London said she could have one pair of shoes. On the eighth rep, Maddie had to quit. She was pretty devastated."

_Oh the poor, poor thing. My heart bleeds for her.  
_

However, this is my chance to find out the truth about Maddie once and for all. I clear my throat and go for it.

"So, um, Maddie and Zack were really close, huh?"

Cody laughs. "Is that what he told you?"

I look at the floor. "Just a guess."

"Zack panted after her like a puppy dog. He had no shame." Cody laughs again. "But I think he always knew nothing would ever happen between them."

"Didn't he call her 'sweet thang'?" A blush spreads from my neck to my ears. As if a guy would ask another guy such an idiotic question. But I need to know.

"That was just a stupid nickname. He calls everyone sweet thang."

Really?

"Maddie just started college," Cody continues. "In her last email to Zack and me, she said she's reunited with the 'establishment puppet' she met at the Merit Scholar convention at the Tipton a few years ago. Supposedly opposites do attract."

I sag against the wall. "That is _such_ great news." So Maddie is unavailable, and Zack knows it. Therefore, he is not cheating on me with Maddie. If he and I are actually dating, that is.

A strange look from Cody prompts me to blurt, "I mean, I just feel like I know Maddie personally after hearing so much about her."

We've arrived at the game room on the Sky Deck, as if it was our destination all along.

"Wanna play pool?" Cody asks.

"Sure." Pool will take my mind off Zack. I grab a couple of cues from the cabinet and hand one to Cody.

Cody rummages through the pockets of his jeans until he finds a protractor. He certainly carries an odd assortment of things—bear repellent, snake bit anti-venom, chimp pheromones, gamma ray deflector, sewing kit. "London always gets me to mend her clothes," he explains when he notices me gawking. "And you never know when you might need to repel something unsavoury. It pays to be prepared. I learned that in Wilderness Scouts." He states the last part with pride.

"No kidding? I was a Wilderness Scout, too." Make that Wilderness _Girl_ Scout.

We play four games, and winning the second and third games helps lift my spirits. Cody is easy to talk to, and it turns out we have a lot more in common than Wilderness Scouts and good grades. We were both spelling bee champions in middle school and valedictorians when we graduated junior high. We both enjoy cooking, and we both hope to get into Harvard or Yale.

I've never admitted this aloud before. When you're from Kettlecorn, going to college means earning a diploma in farm management at Kettle County Community College—K Triple C, for short. If I shared my Ivy League dreams with anyone in Kettlecorn, they wouldn't understand. No student in the history of Kettle County High has ever gone to an Ivy League college. I know because I checked the school archives. I haven't even told Zack I want to go to Harvard or Yale.

"So, tell me, Bailey," Cody asks as he racks the balls for our fifth game. "Whatever happened with that bikini top I found in your cabin a few weeks ago? I was totally sure Zack had something to do with it."

"Why do you say that?" Is Cody implying that I'm undateable? That I'm a nerd like him?

Cody studies the cue ball, mentally planning its path, calculating which angle will result in the best break. "Because Zack usually hits on all the girls."

"He does?"

"Without fail." Cody takes aim and the cue ball hits dead-on. Balls scatter.

My heart sinks along with two striped balls. "Oh."

Cody takes another shot. "I figured he would have gone out with at least half the girls at Seven Seas High by now." A purple striped ball banks off the left side of the table, narrowly missing the centre right pocket. "And some of the passengers. It's kind of strange how he only flirts casually with Addison."

An icy chill creeps through me. "Maybe he's found someone special?" I concentrate on preparing my shot, an act that takes as much effort as keeping my voice steady. Cody hasn't left me many options.

Cody snorts with laughter, and the cue slips in my hand, flubbing my shot and knocking the cue ball off the table. "Have you _met_ my brother? As Zack himself once said, the only thing he can commit to is a cell phone plan."

Fear knots my stomach as I retrieve the ball. Fear and dismay and a resurgence of anger. Is Cody telling me my secret sort-of-boyfriend is a sleazy skirt-chaser?

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Cody inquires when I place the cue ball on the table. "If Zack has met a special girl, you should know." He pauses to measure his next shot with the protractor. His hair flops in his eyes. "You guys have been having quite the bromance since school started," he says, and I hear the tiniest edge of bitterness to his voice.

Guilt jabs me, another negative emotion swirling into the toxic snarl tying up my insides. I should have known Cody would feel excluded by my friendship with Zack. But what exactly does he mean by "bromance"? Does he resent Zack spending so much time with me, or does he think I'm hot for Zack? He couldn't possibly think Zack is hot for a guy... could he?

I can't meet his eyes as I ask, "Are you OK with that?"

Cody shrugs and moves to the other side of the table. "Sure, you're a cool guy, Bailey. Besides, Zack and I had to go our separate ways eventually."

I take this a sign he thinks Zack and I are plain old friends—a charade we'll have to maintain, no matter what happens after today.

"The three of us should hang out together more," I say, just in case Cody has any lingering suspicions. If he detects a shade of insincerity in my voice, I can't tell. He's chewing his lower lip, engrossed in his shot.

He shoots and misses. My turn again, except my hands are shaking so badly the cue rattles against the table.

There's no way I can win this game. I am a loser, the loser girl of all time for not listening to my gut, for ignoring my first impression of Zack as a jerk who only cares about a girl's looks, for forgetting why I came to Seven Seas High in the first place.

"I'm starving," I say, even though I'm not. "Let's go get dinner. And since you won, dessert is on me, bro."

Cody smiles at me. "Cool."

Continuing my losing streak, the buffet is packed when we get there. So packed the ship should be tilting because every single passenger has converged on the buffet table.

"I guess I'll get a head start on my homework and come back later," Cody says.

"Me, too," I say. My eyelids feel scratchy. I could really use that nap. Maybe life will make more sense after I get some sleep. Since it's Friday night, Zack is probably playing Putt Putt with Woody and the stupid robot golf caddy, or on his way to the game room to try to beat his winning score at Galaxy Raider.

But Zack isn't at the Putt Putt course, and he isn't playing arcade games.

When I open the door to Cabin 8-102, my heart thumping against my ribcage, Zack is waiting for me.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter brings us full circle to the scene in the Prologue where Bailey lies awake late at night, wondering how her life became a soap opera. No more flashbacks from here, only present-time action. Thanks for reading, you guys! Xoxoxo – Ellie**


	7. Chapter 6 Queen of the World

**A/N: Hello, dear readers :) Welcome to Chapter 6, in which Bailey notices that size does matter, and Zack has more than one trick up his sleeve…**

* * *

**Chapter 6: "Queen of the World"**

* * *

"Sorry about the email thing," Zack says. From behind his back he takes a bouquet of red roses.

Gripping the doorknob gives me the strength I need as the intoxicating scent invades my nostrils. The bouquet is as big as a rose bush. Luscious. Exquisite. Except everyone knows guys only buy flowers for girls when they feel guilty. Moose, for example, bought me a dozen roses after I caught him giving Mary Lou Evans driving lessons at lunch period. A much smaller bouquet.

When I don't respond, Zack continues. "You're my sweet thang, Bails. Nobody but you. Maddie's just an old friend. A really old friend. Not important."

Zack is cute when he rambles. I look straight into his eyes, studying every gold fleck in those bluish-green irises, while Cody's words replay in my mind like a stuck record—"the only thing he can commit to is a cell phone plan."

He takes a step toward me, gaze unwavering. "I'm really sorry."

And here it comes, that you-know-you-want-me smile, the one that reverberates into my knees.

Tonight is no different. I steel myself with a deep breath. I have to make a move.

"I'm sorry, too. I may have," I swallow, "overreacted." Because it's the truth, I'm compelled to add, "I didn't get much sleep last night and I've been really stressed about the history midterm."

Zack nods like he understands. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Me neither. I just want…" I take the roses from him, bury my nose in the petals. _I want to believe you care about me—and only me. I want to trust you._ Why is that so hard to say?

"I just don't want us to fight," I finish.

Zack doesn't wait to see if I'll say more. "Let's get out of here. I'm taking you to dinner."

"The buffet is packed."

"We're not going to the buffet."

"We're not?" We _always_ go to the buffet.

"Mr. Moseby's away for the weekend, being the best man at Mr. Tipton's ninth wedding." A gleam enters Zack's eyes. "And when the Moseby is away, the Zack will play."

A giggle escapes. "I like the sound of that."

The gleam catches fire.

[***]

The Neptune Room is the fanciest restaurant I've ever set foot in. As the hostess leads Zack and me to a table, I feel like I'm on a movie set. I might as well say," Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

Aside from serving food, the Neptune Room has nothing in common with the Kettlepot Diner. The Neptune Room occupies the stern end of the Sky Deck. The Kettlepot Diner occupies a plot of concrete beside Interstate-135. The Neptune Room impresses with shiny surfaces and crystal chandeliers. The Kettlepot Diner does the opposite with vinyl-covered booths and grease-spotted Formica tabletops. The Neptune Room offers sun-dazzled views of sky and ocean. The Kettlepot Diner offers grimy views of cars whizzing by, along with commentary from Moose: "Check out that 1967 blah-blah-blah." "That motor goes from zero to blah-blah-blah in blah-blah-blah seconds." "For our first wedding anniversary, I want that blah-blah-blah for my truck."

The hostess seats us beside a floor-to-ceiling window and hands us each a menu.

"Order whatever you want," Zack tells me. "It's taken care of."

A scan of the menu drops my jaw. I hate to ask, but I can't help it. "Can you afford this?"

"No worries, I have something I like to refer to as my 'back-up fund'."

A man with a savings plan? Zack has mentioned having a summer job at a grocery mart in Boston. Hmmm, maybe he isn't so irresponsible after all.

A waiter materializes, a wiry guy dressed in a tuxedo who rattles off the specials of the day—"lobster" is the only word I catch amid the gastronomic tongue-twister—then asks us what we'd like to drink. The pinched angle of his mouth implies he'd rather ask us to leave.

We order Cokes, and I return my attention to the menu. The names of dishes are just as intimidating as the prices: Shrimp Ceviche, Roast Duck à L'Orange, Pommes Amandine, Châteaubriand and Gratin Dauphinoise Potatoes.

"I lived at the Tipton for years, I know how to talk to these people," Zacks says, as if sensing my distress. "Watch and learn."

"Are you ready to orders, sirs?" the waiter asks when he reappears with our Cokes.

Zack gives the menu a nod and proclaims with authority, "I'll have the sautéed frog legs to start and the bacon-wrapped fill-it mig-nun. And my buddy here will have..." He gestures to me.

My nerves win. "I'll have the lobster special," I say quickly. At the Kettlepot Diner, the special of the day is always the cheapest option.

"Are you sure, sir?" the waiter asks. "That dish is rather—"

Zack interrupts. "My buddy knows what he wants."

"Very well then, sirs." Unless it's my imagination, there's more than a hint of condescension in the waiter's tone.

He departs, and I take a sip of my Coke. "He must think we're on a date."

Zack shrugs. "He can judge all he wants, as long as he does it silently. I'm not paying for his opinion."

I grab my napkin to smother another giggle.

Regardless of what the waiter thinks, Zack and I are on a date, our first actual date, and it's unlike any date I've ever been on, the kind of experience you want to record on camera so you can relive it at any moment for the rest of your life.

But because we're in a five-star restaurant, surrounded by well-heeled passengers, I restrain myself from whipping out my phone to capture Zack's horrified gag when he takes his first bite of frog leg (really, it's not that bad; it tastes like chicken with a fishy after-taste). And I restrain myself from capturing our meals when they arrive—Zack's fill-it mig-nun, which turns out to be a kind of taste, and my lobster special, an exotic seafood platter of oysters, clams, shrimp, mussels, and—you guessed it—lobster. The special is the best meal I've tasted, more delicious than the cheeseburger/chili fries combo Moose always ordered for us, the Mexican buffet, even my Grammy Pickett's deep-fried corn fritters.

"Can I get you two gentlemen anything else?" the waiters asks after clearing our plates.

I'm more stuffed than a turkey at Thanksgiving, but Zack peruses the dessert menu the waiter has produced.

"We'll have the chocolate chipotle Baked Alaska," he informs the waiter. "Since it's my buddy's birthday."

"_En flambé_?" the waiter asks.

"Whatever," Zack says.

The waiter's eyes shift to me. "Congratulations."

"Why did you say that?" I demand the second we're alone again. "Everyone will notice us if the waiters have to sing 'Happy Birthday' to me."

"So? Do you see anyone from Seven Seas High?"

A quick glance around the room proves his point.

"But what if London walks in? She'll wonder why I didn't say it's my birthday in class."

"London goes to the spa every night from six to eight."

"Oh." I check my phone. We're in the clear for another half-hour. "You think of everything, don't you?"

"Yes," Zack replies, radiating smugness. "Yes, I do."

As if I need further evidence of the Neptune Room's sophistication, dessert does not come with candles and a bevy of waiters singing "Happy Birthday." It comes with a barbecue lighter that the waiter flicks after depositing a confection of ice cream, sponge cake, and meringue between us.

The Baked Alaska bursts into flame, sizzling with peaks of blue and orange, as bright as the last rays of sunshine bathing our table.

By the time the flames have died down, so has the drama of this afternoon—the fight with Zack, playing pool with Cody, Cody's revelations about Zack. Faded like the octopus ink on the hem of Nate's hoodie, which I happen to be wearing. My clothes are in fact the only thing wrong with tonight. Stuck wearing Nate's hoodie and jeans, I feel like a Cinderella whose fairy godmother forgot to change her rags into a ball gown.

The bill arrives in a small leather folder after my internal organs have rearranged themselves to accommodates five bites of Baked Alaska and Zack has inhaled the rest. When Zack takes out his Seven Seas High student cash card, without opening the folder, the waiter's nose wrinkles as if he's smelled a skunk.

"The way, please," he says, and Zack gets up to follow him.

The restaurant must have a special terminal for student cash cards. One that's not used very often.

"Thanks for all of this, Zack," I say as soon as he's back. "Thank you so, so much." I'm gushing, but I don't care. "Everything was amazing. Grammy Pickett would disinherit me for saying this, but the Baked Alaska makes her prize-wining brownies taste like boot leather."

"No problem." Zack is already heading for the door, striding with purpose. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

[***]

What I see when we reach the top of the stairs makes my breath halt in my throat.

"Oh wow." There's nothing else I can say.

Zack and I are on the Starlight Deck, the ship's topmost deck. The mid-November sky is awash with pinks, purples, oranges. Above the sliver of red where the sky and Atlantic Ocean meet, the sun blazes, a fiery ball of gold.

"Rows of cornfields have nothing on a real ocean sunset," I say as soon as I find the words.

"Neither does the Boston skyline."

From our vantage point, we can see at least half the ship. The smoothie bar on the Promenade Deck where we hang out between classes. The hot tub next to it, where I could have fallen on Day 1 and blown my secret new life before it began. The twisty waterslide on the Fiesta Deck and one level below us, the Sky Bar on the Gala Deck where couples dance and jazz music plays. Most glorious of all, we're the only ones enjoying the spectacle because we have the Starlight Deck to ourselves.

Standing behind me, Zack slips his hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

Again I wish I was wearing a beautiful dress. But my sad outfit is not going to stop me from revelling in the moment. I step up onto the deck railing and tilt my face to the sky, salt-tinged air rushing across my skin. The sky is redder now, streaks of magenta and scarlet blending into the gold mass of the sun as it merges with the horizon.

I stretch out my arms. _So this is what it's like to feel young and alive and free._

Zack wraps his arms about my waist, steadying me, and tucks his chin into my shoulder. I really do feel like we're flying, up here together where the sky looks bigger than ever.

A freakishly cheesy thought occurs to me. Too freakishly cheesy to ignore.

"Go for it." Zack's breath tickles my ear. He must have read my mind. "You know you want to."

And I do. With a-nothing-can-stop-me desire. So I fill my lungs and let loose.

"I'm the Queen of the World!"

My face goes hot immediately. "Oh my God. I am _such_ a geek."

Zack tilts my head so I can't hide my shame, "Yes, you are, sweet thang." The corners of his mouth twitch, and his eyes shine a clear, sweet blue in the glow of the decklights pinned to the railing. "But you're a hot geek."

Our noses touch, yet we're still too far apart. Zack holds me tighter, and every particle in my body and the space around us electrifies as our mouths meld. My lips part, my hand reaches up to cup the back of his head.

A yanking sensation barely registers, and then _whoosh_—my hair unfurls, flapping around us like streamers.

"Oh crap." I grab for my baseball cap, but a sharp gust whisks it beyond my fingers, sends it spiraling up up up until the wind dips. My cap begins a slow, fifteen-deck descent toward the ocean, a dark rippling mass.

"Darn it," I exclaim.

"Don't worry," Zack says. "I'll get you a new one." He rests a hand on my cheek, brushing wisps of hair from my forehead.

My skin heats under his palm. I tug on the collar of his shirt and we're kissing again, pressed against the rail, my arms encircling his neck and Zack's hands lost in my hair.

_I love you, Zack,_ I think as the sunset hues and salty air and deck lights spin around us and the tip of the sun glows on the horizon. _I don't care if we get caught. Watching the sunset with you is worth it. Kissing you is worth it. Sneaking around with you is worth it. _

_This is all worth it._

* * *

**A/N:** **Could any girl worry when Zack tells her not to? :) Or while she's in the midst of a scene inspired by the most famous cruise ship romance ever? What would Mr. Moseby say? As stated in "Twister, Part 3" he was indeed the best man at Mr. Tipton's ninth wedding, so anything could have happened while he was away... Thanks for reading, you guys! Reviews always welcome. I love to hear your thoughts and ideas. Xoxoxo – Ellie  
**


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